The Meek Shall Inherit
by Doctor Who's Lost Companion
Summary: Student Richard Brook and teacher Sebastian Moran have their daily after school discussion when a discovery keeps them late after. Both experiencing difficult childhoods, past and present there might be something to find in a new friendship. RPer: Richard Brook; DWLC: Richard Brook, James Brook Warning: Many triggers of abuse in particular
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 **

Richard Brook looked up from his desk to the clock as they finished, sighing inwardly as he stood up from the chair he had been sitting in for the last hour.

"Thanks for the time, I should be getting home, James will be wondering where I am..." Richard smiled innocently, looking up at his teacher, Mr. Moran. He had stayed after to ask him a question about class and had lost track of time. It seemed to happen a lot when he talked to Mr. Moran. Glancing outside, it had already started to rain, and scratched his arm absently; the tip of a dark bruise showing on his pale skin, not realizing it was visible. Then again, Richard never had to worry about it. There were a lot of cuts, scars and bruises, some hours old, others years but they were all well hidden, almost strategically placed where clothes could cover them.

"Rich, I-" Moran was about to ask him whether he was alright or not, having seen his small bruise, though hesitated. Surely if anything was wrong Richard would have the confidence to confide in him by now, not only from student to teacher, but maybe even slight friends. Today was almost any other day, the two losing themselves in conversation over the lesson of the day, passing opinions back and forth to each other. "I was just- just wondering when the performance of Hamlet would be on. I really look forward to seeing it, I peeked inside the theater and saw the Crew working hard on the set; it's rather beautiful. And what about your father? Is he coming too? I still have not had the chance to meet him."

The student turned to look at him as he spoke, his soft eyes questioning. He seemed to of realized he'd been scratching again, so he hid his arms behind his back at he listened.

"Two weeks," Richard smiled brightly, "It's going to be fun. Don't go snooping around too much though or you'll ruin it," he warned and gave a small chuckle. Across from him Mr. Moran noted his student's sudden attitude change, shifting slightly at the mention of his father. Before Mr. Moran could formulate his own conclusions Richard quickly shrugged.

"It depends on what's going on that day," he answered simply, not expanding.

Hm. James Brooks... he was the only parent who never arrived to the Parent Teacher conference, Richard giving the excuse that he had been too busy to make it. Work or something, Moran faintly remembered. Despite his near perfect marks in his Language Arts class, Richard never seemed focused, always staring off into the far distance, watching the outside, or maybe doodling in his notebook. Moran made it a small game to call on him and attempt to catch him off guard, though he was never successful.

"I greatly look forward to it then," Moran grinned and waved him off, watching him leave.

"Me too," Richard smiled and gave a small nod as he swung his bag over his shoulders, "I'll see you tomorrow." He smiled, pulling out his umbrella and exited the room

Returning back to grading his papers, Moran started to read something about the importance of symbolism in _The Fault in Our Stars_, though there was nagging... nagging in the back of his mind.

"Wait! Richard! Rich!" Moran called as he ran after him, down the hall. Surprised by the shouting behind him Richard turned on a heel to find his professor running after him and found himself confused.

"What? Did I forget something?" the student asked, waiting for him to catch up.

"It's just..." Moran bit his lip, determining how to ask and settling that honesty would help him spit out. "Richard... how did you get that bruise?"

At his question he looked down at his arm. So... he had seen.

"You know how life you, you pick up random bruises along the way..." Richard lied with a shrug as he looked up to Mr. Moran in confidence, hoping his past year of newly discovered acting would assist him. Since forever he'd been lying about this his whole life, as natural as bleeding, so why was he finding it so hard and painful now?

"Listen you are a great actor, brilliant really, but you can't fool me Rich, the eyes give too much away. Also Life's bruisers are not _that_ impacting and not _that purple_... please I just... if there's anything, I mean Anything, would you tell me? I care for you, I do," Mr. Moran stared back at him, unwavering from his spot. With effort he kept his voice calm, not wanting it to be commanding and push Richard away. The student dropped his gaze to his feet, kicking at the ground in defeat and breathed a sigh.

"Maybe... but it was worth a shot wasn't it?" Richard asked with a sigh. If this was how he reacted to a small section of a bruise he wondered what he would say if he saw the rest of it... or all of it. Then again, he wasn't about to find out. But then again Mr. Moran's questions were hard, almost stemming on guilt.

"It's not that I don't trust you... or don't want to tell you..." pausing, "You took the time to listen and be there for me and... it means more than you know but- there are some things I wouldn't burden you with," Richard finished softly.

Moran shook his head and had to blink at the student before him, his chest tightening. At least he could help him this far.

"It would not be much of a burden if one carries them already," he said and offered a weak smile, then realizing where they were decided it best to move elsewhere. "Come on, in here." With his keys Moran unlocked the door to the teacher's lounge lucky to find it empty, most people taking their work home. Sitting on one sofa, he offered Richard a seat opposite to him and bit his thumb in thought for a moment as he stared at the young man.

Richard looked down, biting his lip before looking up as he ushered him into a room. Checking around, surveying the new surroundings before following him over to the couch and sitting down as he motioned him too. It amazed him sometimes, how relaxed he was around Moran some times, Even now... even with the tension he felt... safe. Behind Richard could feel him watching him, he knew he was waiting.

"It's not quite that simple you know... Even if I did... There's nothing you can do."

"But there isn't?" Moran raised his eyebrow, "I understand it's not simple, it can never be. As I stated before, I doubt it would be much of a burden if such things are already carried." At that, he unbuttoned the top of his sleeve and began to roll it up his arm, pausing for a moment with a deep inhale of breath.

"Most of them healed over, though not this one."

Richard frowned, watching him and leaning forward as he rolled up his sleeve to look at his arm. Slowly, cautiously he reached out, his fingers lightly trailing over the scar over his arm. "How'd you get this?" He asked, upon seeing it something seemed to soften inside of him... a barrier you wouldn't of known was there if you hadn't felt it come down.

"Trying to escape... when you are lost in a labyrinth of darkness how can anyone find the light? When it came down to it, I had only thought of one last option left. Except I failed it."

At the touch of Richard's fingertip, Moran tensed, not used to the foreignness of someone else on that small area of skin. Slowly, what was dug was beginning to slowly ink back to memory into his mind, all of it. Almost every detail-

"So you see, I have had my share of problems too."

Swallowing Richard's eyes widened slightly, his eyes lingering on the scar and then back up at him. He knew exactly what he was talking about, it was scary though. Richard pulled his hand away quickly as he felt him tense.

"I'm so sorry... I wasn't thinking," he said frantically, burring his hands into his lap, "I didn't mean to..." he trailed off, biting him lip as he looked down at his own arm still covered. After a second he held out his arm, slowly starting to roll up his sleeve. He only went to his elbow... though the wounds spoke for themselves. That they continued up his arm, over to his torso... The bruise he'd seen the top of covered about half his forearm. The rest of his arm was covered in red cuts and scratches, dark bruises and scars of all ages.

"No it's ok," Moran reassured him and was about to speak again when he noticed the small movements Richard made, then found he was revealing his entire arm. At this there was a bit of mixed emotion: the pity that such a remarkable young man as him was in such a state, angry at the fact it was even happening, and sadness more so because he understood it too well.

"Does it happen when he drinks? When you make him angry or upset?" Moran carefully leaned in and questioned.

"Honestly- It wouldn't matter how I'd answer I'd still be telling the truth. He doesn't need a reason... Sure he does when he drinks yet when I do something he doesn't like- or- but also when he's sober, or when he's bored or when he just feels like it,"

Richard pushed his hair back from his face continuing softly, "It's just the way he works, there's no rhyme or reason."

The more Moran listened the more his stomach turned. Then he noticed the habit was reemerging again, nibbling his thumbnail and he nodded. Taking it in and analyzing Richard's situation sounded worse than he predicted, very severe. Still, the more important question had to follow, vital.

"How long?"

Richard closed his eyes as the question, he'd already known it was coming. He looked down, taking a deep breath. "How long have I lived with him?" he asked, though it wasn't a question, they both knew it... he was making a point. Since he could remember it had been happening, it was normal by now. Sure, there were stories about abuse everywhere, how horrible it was but to him- There was nothing strange or wrong about it even though he knew it should be. If he lasted this long no doubt he could keep it up for another year or so because it was routine. In reality he had nowhere else to go otherwise.

"Next to Normal, perhaps... I want to say sorry. Though sorry and words cannot reverse time not what we been through. No... Richard, it will hurt, it will ache and the only thing we can do is endure it, I know not what long term advice to give. There is- there is one last question I have to ask-" for Moran the sentences were starting to become caught in his throat by now, "Did he also-... I mean... he had a wife once or a girlfriend? Because sometimes when- when... they look for another outlet for that pent up energy..." Moran could not look at him anymore, burying his face in his hands and he shivered.

"There's nothing you could do, you have nothing to be sorry for," Richard told him, smiling at him despite the topic, a genuine smile trying to cheer him up. At his question though, he fell silent again. If left unanswered he knew Mr. Moran would not let him go so easily, too concerned by now.

"If you're asking if there's a woman in his life he uses as an outlet the answer is no," Richard told him after a second, not telling him anything, but again, he wasn't denying either.

"But is he using you to- to-...meet... his needs?" Mr. Moran grit his teeth at the question and was trembling wishing he was not sitting here to ask such questions. Watching him Richard leaned back in the chair, biting his lip.

"Honestly... You don't want to hear the answer to that," Richard said flatly until the familiar wave of nausea washed over him and even a small whimper escaped him.

"Rich... there's one last thing you should know," Moran's hands were shaking, no longer holding himself together. Swiveling his body around, he started to loosen the buttons of his waist coat, falling to the floor, and then started to shed the white button down he had been wearing. When it had lowered to his shoulders, he let it fall to his lower back. Red, deep lines crisscrossed nearly everywhere, some places even blackened from a few charred ones.

Almost scared Richard was ready to bolt, confused what his teacher was doing, half hearing what Mr. Moran said, fixated on watching him as he slid off his shirt. The eyes widened, standing up and walking over his fingers trailing just above the skin, as if scared to touch them after what happened last time. "How..." He started, looking up at the older male.

"My mother. I was her abomination that was never meant to be and apparently reminded her too much of my father. Very too much like my father," Moran began to feel an oncoming headache at the thought, for a moment almost distressed that he was talking to Richard about this, it forced him to remember. Richard looked up at him, his eyes wet. Suddenly without warning he wrapped his arms around the older male, anyone else under any other circumstances it would of been strange but to Richard, it felt natural. Moran's spine almost straightened up when there was sudden pressure wrapped around him and the small feeling of a forehead pressed in between his shoulders.

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said anything or brought any of this up..." he murmured, stepping back and looking at the ground, "I should get going..." he said, clearly spooked and upset at himself for causing Moran's angst.

"No wait Richard please. It's not your fault, although it shakes me, it does feel good to finally tell someone," Moran smiled and began to put his shirt back together, "Please, call me Sebastian, I think we have already stepped over enough boundaries, don't you agree?"

Odd to hear another name other than "Moran" Richard swallowed a lump in his throat and tried to speak, "Sebastian..." he repeated. Part of him wanted to show him all the bruises, all the wounds. But what did it matter, Sebastian probably already knew, it extended beyond the scope of is arms and the torso was a lot easier target sometimes than the hands.

"But I am late getting home and he doesn't like it when I'm even 5 minutes late," Richard muttered.

"Go, go, go! We'll have to talk more tomorrow and I will not do anything, not until you say so... well, tomorrow." Sebastian escorted him to the front doors, luckily no one around to see them, walking him outside, "Rich... stay dry on your walk home."

The student nodded, sliding his sleeve back down. "Thank you..." he replied softly, smiling up at him and nodded while observing the rain, "I'll do the best I can..." The house wasn't too far, and yet it was far enough. On arrival of his door step he took a deep breath, and let himself in, closing the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The sound of the door... he perked his head up from the bills he had been paying and light himself another cigarette before standing in the doorway of the kitchen, listening for the footsteps that carried upstairs. Then making up his mind he climbed the stairs and opened the first door on the right.

"Late," he said, the smoke curling out of his mouth.

Richard tried to be as discrete as possible, not that he even expected to get away with it. As quietly as he thought he made his way upstairs, keeping to himself. He changed his clothes into something more comfortable, a t-shirt and sweats. The clothes he wore for school covered the wounds, but weren't exactly comfortable. The gruff voice got his attention, spinning around to see a figure as the door opened.

"I know and I'm sorry... I really didn't think I would be this late... I had a question on an assignment..." Richard explained.

"You were suppose to come home and do your chores you little cunt, now the laundry still needs be done, the dishes and all of that. How do you expect me to work throughout the day, much earlier than most people, and do everything else," James asked quietly.

"I'll do it now... all of it..." Richard replied, just staring at the floor, unmoving. "I'll do them right now if you want..."

"Yes fucking now! And if you want to eat be sure to do a good job," he shouted and then slammed the door shut, stomping down the stairs. Little shit... slaving away all day while he was off at school, sitting for hours and not helping out around the house. Then the play... that play was taking up too much time, keeping him outside of the house for far too long. The more James thought about it, the more an idea formed in his mind and it churned his stomach sick. His own flesh and blood trying to leave him.

Dark eyes followed him as James continued with the paperwork and watched carefully at Richard's movements. Under the gaze Richard took a deep breath, going about with putting the laundry in, making his way into the kitchen to wash dishes next. At the table the cogs turned and James began to fume as he watched. How could he... no respect for him, letting him live in this house, under his roof.

"Why is it you do this... Drama stuff?" James questioned when Richard was about to venture upstairs, leaving the clean stack of dishes to dry, "What are you to take out of it eh?"

Cursing that one day he might climb the stairs without being stopped, Richard stopped, turning to look at him. In the back of mind he swept and moped the floor for good measure to make up for his tardiness.

"What do you mean why? I want to..." he answered simple, flickering his eyes up.

"Why take the time out? Is it that you like it? Answer me," James' voice shook as he stood, flicking away the ashes of another light and began to tower over him, "I asked you why!"

"Yeah, ok..." Richard dared not cringe though taking a step back as he approached, "I like it. I sort of find it fun and I can talk to the other students there too."

"Are you sure that it's not that you like someone there? Another _boy_ ... you fucking queer... you will go nowhere near that club you hear! So I wouldn't even bother anymore and stop seeing him whoever he is, I did not raise a faggot," Jim gnashed his teeth and the whole body tensed. Across from him Richard was beginning to hear the anger, it was coming, the unstoppable train that careened at him

"Dad please... I swear it has nothing to do with that. I like acting, I'm not doing it for someone... I'm not..." he took a deep breath, he was wasting breath and he knew it, "I swear, nothing going on at practice except for running lines."

"Ya right... just get to your school work already," a headache curbed James away, not wanting to deal with the nuisance any longer. Richard nodded, hurrying up the stairs to his room, taking a deep breath as he closed the door behind him. It was always something... That last thing he wanted to hear was /him/ lecturing him on sexuality. He shook his head, walking over to his desk and starting to work on his school work.

It was for certain that Richard was lying, lying as he always did. It was a wonder who this other person was, maybe some other queer actor who took it up the ass, although knowing Rich, he would be the one taking it. Lazily James finished what work he had at hand and tossed ready to eat dinners in the oven.

"Dinner!" he called and when there was no answer something struck a nerve. Cooked, Jim gripped one of dinners and briskly walked upstairs, flinging the door open.

"I called you down for dinner! Fucking little shit! I told you I only am to call you once!"

At the same instant he flew in the door. Richard, who was already standing up, jumped, losing his balance and falling over the chair. "I was coming... I am coming..." He replied breathlessly, quickly standing up.

"Oh, I am sure you were, absolutely. Just wankin' off at that the boyfriend you have, enjoy that cock in your mouth? Moaning like the little whore you are, so are you hungry? Need something in your mouth now," James yelled and tore open the still hot meal. He saw Richard twitch at his movements, almost ready to try to run, but he was caught in James' arm and was thrown down, pinned with the weight of a body sat on top of.

"Then eat! I know you are hungry!"

"I was working on homework! I swear! Dad!" Richard yelled, trying to squirm out from beneath him. Not that it did any good, it never did any good. Furious James began to shove the burning hot meal down the throat, suppressing the squirming body beneath him.

"EAT!"

"Dad! Don!" Richard protested at the food shoved into his mouth, scorching the inside and throat. Unable to breath he instinctively tried to push the food away, covering his mouth with his arms to a point where he could speak again.

"It's not like that!"

"I don't want to hear of it! Shut up!" James roared when bit of food sputtering up and then roughly pulled him up only when there was nothing solid left to chew. Sitting up and then standing, James pulled Richard up by the shirt, except at the exhaustion, he stumbled back down.

"That is it..." James gripped him by the ankles and began to pull him out of the bedroom and down the hallway, "Closet... time... you will be lucky if I remember to let you out for tomorrow, miss that boyfriend of yours."

When his father attempted to stand him upright Richard nearly fell, the food still burning. He coughed and choked up what remained only to find himself thrown down, gasping for breath, his mouth burning too much to talk. Suddenly Richard felt himself being dragged down the hall, the carpet burning his raw skin as his shirt slid up and slammed against the wall of a secure closet. It was a special closet, one James had long ago sound proofed and installed locks, a too familiar place. Regaining some senses Richard saw the light from the hallway blocked out in front of him, weakness gripping him as he gasped, rolling over, still panting for breath.

"Look at you... pathetic. She told me you were mine but that bitch had to be lying. No son of mine would grow up to be a goddamned faggot and lazy piece of shit," James then spat in his face, wiped the corner of his mouth with his sleeve, "And you give nothing, all you do is take my food, my money, when I could have thrown you out, but no, no, no. Education first as they all say, so I have to comply with those idiots from the agency, though a few quid doesn't hurt their business," he smiled wickedly, proud of himself, his slicked back hair by now falling messily at his sides.

At his feet the small crumpled body groaned .

"I'm not sleeping with anyone," he gasped, his voice cracking and rough and ending in a series of coughs the only hurt his throat worse, "Please..." Richard pleaded, pulling himself into a sitting position and leaning against the back of the closet, avoiding putting much pressure on the rug burns.

'Looks like I may not make it tomorrow after all...' he thought to himself, almost as if to Sebastian. That look was in his Dad's eyes, wild. Honestly, the safest place probably was where he was right now. Growing up fast meant Richard understood James' "business" assure that he would not be in trouble with those that held authority, a power that happened to allow him to slide through the cracks for a tip in the pocket... there was no where his Dad's grasp didn't extend, at least that is what is seemed, which was why Richard knew that there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Unsatisfied, James stooped down and slapped him hard, causing Rich to fall to the floor. The hands flew at the back of the head and his spine, keeping him pushed down into the floor.

"Hmph, denial, denial. Daddy really hates when you lie... I know you want it, hungry for it," James growled and had sit down on the back of Richard's knees. Stumbling and groaning, Richard squinted up at him only to find himself rolled over onto his stomach, face pushed into the floor and pinned, the small whimpers escaping yet he didn't say anything, trying to shake his head, not that it did much good.

"I was not planning on anything- ugh, how annoying..." a phone buzzed in James' pocket and pulling it out he read the message, "lost another street corner... bloody bastards."

Forgetting his son was there, sat up and left the closet, not even bothering to lock it behind him. The coast appeared clear enough for Richard to gasp for breath, rolling over to his back, panting. He glanced at the door, doubting it would be long before he came back... but it wasn't like he had any where to go... even if he did... what was the point when it would only make it worse later? He rolled over, propping himself up onto hands and knees before standing up, staggering against the wall, leaning on it for support before he made his way back to his room, collapsing onto his bed.

Much to the concern of one of his colleagues, Sebastian arrived to school rather tired, reassuring them it had been just a bad night's sleep. Rather, he barely slept at all, wondering if he even closed his eyes, tossing and turning at the worry over Richard. The images of his arm kept coming to mind and if what he said, Sebastian imagined the ugliness of it all had covered other places of his body as well. Eventually in his restlessness he walked to the kitchen for a glass of water, and his body beginning to shake at his own memories. Within the dark he could feel the ghosting of a hand placed firmly on his shoulder and the feeling of a wedding ring on the fourth finger.

"Sebastian... what's wrong sweet heart."

"Go away..."

"Remember you could tell me anything darling-"

"Stop it!"

The drink he had been holding in his hand shattered against the wall of his flat once he threw it, the memory disappearing with it, and now tired and panting, is when he decided to try to go to bed. His efforts had been fruitless. But when his last class started the next day, at first Sebastian was happy to see Richard talking to some of his other pupils who seemed fascinated and had surrounded him.

"Wow! So you got jumped and fought them off!" "Amazing!"

In the Brook house Richard had not gotten much sleep because he spent the rest of the night finishing laundry, cleaning and finishing homework as quietly as he could. He made the walk to school, usually his dad was smart when angry, smart enough to wound him where it couldn't be seen, but not this time. Generally he was accustomed to go with long sleeves, but he had rolled them up partially, just a few inches. Despite this Richard did not like wearing long sleeves, it was hot, and as long as they believed he was almost mugged, it was a reasonable explanation for the bruised skin.

"Um... yeah..." He said, his voice still horse and weak and he took another drink of water, "Well, I'd still rather not do it again now with further rehearsal going on. I need to be fir right?" Richard smiled at the crowd and tilted his head to a cute girl who watched him admiringly. Glancing up at Sebastian their eyes meet for a brief second, nothing needed to be said before looking back at another student who was trying to buy his attention.

** "**Yeah! They got you real good on that cheek there, how terrible," one girl pouted and hugged his arm, "I bet you will be better for the play though right?" the others nodded in agreement and continued in their admiration and sympathies. Before he could begin his lesson Sebastian walked out of the classroom, swallowing some air and tried to shake a headache so he could muster a good face for everyone else. The bell rang and all the lingering students in the hallway clamored inside, Richard was still being whispered for more information and their professor hushed them. As Sebastian spoke he saw Richard was off again somewhere, glancing back at him secretly, he wondered where Richard's mind took itself. Hopefully it was somewhere happy.

The rest of the hour wore on and the bell sounded, everyone running out because it was a Friday, a good deal of them patting Rich and congratulating him more on his victory against his attackers. In the end Sebastian and his student were the only ones left as usual.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey, I know this is not a chapter but I needed to make an announcement. I apologize for the hiatus, college got in the way. But on summer break I hope to continue writing and adding to my stories. If a new chapter does not follow this one then please be patient, I promise to try to finish stories! If really bored then go explore another story? I dunno but thanks for following!

Date posted 5/21/13


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